


maybe it's not all that okay

by alpasbellame



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, The 100 (TV) Season 5, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 06:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16887276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpasbellame/pseuds/alpasbellame
Summary: Clarke struggling with her emotions of nonrecognition of the Bellamy she once knew.  Set some days after the reunion.





	maybe it's not all that okay

**Author's Note:**

> A lil drabble I wrote forever ago (time stamp: apr 7 2018 @ 12:51 am, lol) and completely forgot about until now. Figured I'd post it. Hope you enjoy! <3

“Clarke.”

She jumped at the sudden simultaneous sound of his voice and him brushing against the flaps of the tent as he entered. She did her best to play it off though, to ignore the way her heart sped like it did the last time she was near him; how she felt like she couldn't breathe.

“Hey,” she said, nonchalantly glancing at him briefly before forcing herself to turn back to her work. Because really, she could stare at him forever. He looked everything and nothing like she remembered--he had scruff that she was still trying to figure out how she felt about, and was thin again, the way they all had been when they’d first come to Earth all those years ago, having only lived off of water and algae. He’d let his hair grow out the way she’d always imagined, dark curls tumbling over each other, messy as ever in the best way, complimenting his forehead. She could drink him in, try to get back the pieces of the Bellamy she’d thought she’d committed to memory to last her five years--but these pieces wouldn't fit. This was a new Bellamy standing before her, improved for the best. A Bellamy she didn't know.

It saddened her.

“Came to see how you were doing,” he said, though she heard something of another question in his voice.

“Oh, I’m fine. The meat’s almost done,” she uttered, poking the rabbit with the stick and flipping it over under the fire. It was night time; if she peeked through the flap on her side, she could find the stars of the Big Dipper that she had taken to naming after Spacekru, waiting for her to whisper their names one more night.

_Well, no more_ , she thought, feeling tears sting her eyes. She told herself it was the smoke, which she was admittedly inhaling a good amount of, what with how close she was to the fire.

“You sure?” He asked. She refused to turn around, to look at him--too many different emotions were swimming around in her chest. She made herself nod, slightly frantic. She poked the mostly done meat again, meaning to flip it again but spiking the fire instead; she jumped reflexively, and the edge of a flame caught the inside of her wrist. She dropped the stick, swearing and grabbing her singed wrist while stepping back.

“Woah there,” Bellamy exclaimed, appearing at her side in a flash. His hand went to her arm, holding her steady as his other studied her wound.

“I'm fine, it’s fine,” she said insistently, taking her hand off the burn and showing him. “See? It’s fine. I’m okay.” Granted, her skin harbored a red slash they both knew would swell soon enough. Bellamy passed her a skeptical look, which stung, because this. _This_ is what she missed most--being able to tell exactly what he was thinking just by a look on his face. But now, she couldn't tell if he thought she was crazy or if he was simply doubtful. Maybe both.

“I’m okay,” she uttered again, nodding as if she were trying to convince herself, but her voice failed her miserably. Bellamy caught it, his expression shifting from alert to concern. The fire had died down to a soft flicker, illuminating their faces in an intimate, orange glow so he could see the unshed tears in her eyes. Quickly, he shifted her directly in front of him, his hands at her shoulders. She went rigid at his touch, hands warm. He was so close.

“No you’re not,” he said quietly. His expression had melted into what looked like recognition, and he didn't sound like he was talking about the burn anymore. “Talk to me, Clarke.”

_I did!_ She wanted to scream. _Everyday! For six years!_ She didn't though, just let herself crumble, falling into him in a wave of soft sobs. Momentarily, she was just a sorry heap against his chest, and she wanted badly to stop--because this wasn't her Bellamy, not the one she remembered--but then his arms came around her, strong and reassuring, holding her together. She felt his chin atop her head, felt a tiny nod as he stared ahead, emotion threatening to well from his own eyes. “I know,” he whispered, and Clarke trusted, just for this moment, that he really did.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!!


End file.
